Circus
by Nazrath
Summary: FMAB AU Fanfic: Ed and Al lost their mother when Ed was merely seven. Circumstances brought them to the Great Central Circus run by Mr. Bradley. But is this benign man for real? And what is Roy Mustang so desperate to hide? How exactly is the rebellion related to Ed and Al's father? And who is the one intent on murdering Riza Hawkeye? Parental!RoyXEd, Royai.
1. THE CIRCUS

**CIRCUS—A FMAB AU FANFIC**

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 **A/N:** Hey dee howdy ho!

I know I am in _no_ position to start new fics, especially when my Inuyasha and CCS fics are lying in hiatus (*I apologise but I solemly promise to complete them soon*) but this idea wouldn't leave the confines of my brain unless I forced my aching fingers to type out yet _another_ chapter. And hence presenting you **CIRCUS**.

This is an AU fic whose idea popped in after I watched Karneval and Kuroshitsuji: Book of Circus-circus is an amazing thing, don't you think? Their lives are so cool-living in caravans, travelling to different places etc. I was a big fan of Enid Blyton's _Mr. Galliano's Circus_ as a kid, but sadly I haven't been able to experience one live. Here's hoping to a possibility in the future!

After all, imagination makes us travel places which reality can only dream of, right?

 **Summary:** Ed and Al lost their mother when Ed was merely seven. Circumstances brought them to the Great Central Circus run by Mr. Bradley. But is this benign man for real? And what is Roy Mustang so desperate to hide? How exactly is the rebellion related to Ed and Al's father? And who is the one intent on murdering Riza Hawkeye? And will Roy finally embrace the real truth?

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 **CHAPTER 01: THE CIRCUS**

 _My mother died when I was seven. My little brother Al, he was six. I still remember the doctors telling us, the air of finality resting heavily on my shoulders. The doctor was a nice man, he had also offered us a room in his house to stay._

 _We lived with him for a year. Till the day mom finally left us. They said it was cancer. Cancer was supposed to be incurable in the later stages. My mother—sweet, kind, loving Mom never let us realise the agony she felt. How every breath she took felt like her throat was being rubbed with sand-paper._

 _My father, that bastard of a man who supplied us with fifty percent of our genes, he walked out on us a year before Mom finally collapsed and had to be admitted to the hospital. She hated to hear ill of him, loved him till her dying breath. We were never rich, but we lived. Granny Pinako often came over to help us sometimes, helped Mom with the cooking and cleaning._

 _I wasn't old enough to be considered a man, but I couldn't stand by and do nothing. Winry offered me to teach how to make prosthetic automail limbs—she was an expert. I tried but apparently I "didn't have the correct aptitude"._

 _It was quite accidentally that I discovered my latent talent in sculpting. It was during our art class in school. We were being introduced to wood carving. Everyone was goofing around, but I dunno...I felt the wood talk to me._

 _I never realised two hours had passed by. And the plain wooden block was transformed into Den, the dog who lived with Granny Pinako and Winry._

 _Since then, I began to sculpt tiny figures of birds, animals, people and Granny helped me sell them. My Mom hated to see me selling what she called her "art collection" but I could see the pride in her eyes. Al, the ever competitive, realised he could draw quite well and added paintings to my sculptures. I just can't forget the way her eyes shone when we gifted our best creation to her on her birthday._

 _All good things always come to an end. On that fateful day, we received our school annual reports. We were very happy—both Al and I had topped our respective grades. Winry was in my grade and she was slightly put out by the fact that she lost out the top position by one measly mark._

 _We were happy. We didn't know it would be the last time we would be so happy._

 _We found Mom sprawled over the kitchen floor, unconscious. The town doctor was called but he suggested we move her to one of the big city hospitals._

 _We didn't have enough money to do that. Granny helped us, but I couldn't allow her to empty her savings on us. She too had Winry to look after._

 _But our entire town of Resembool pooled in, and soon we were ready to move Mom to the hospital._

 _A year passed by. But I was glad she passed away peacefully in her sleep. She deserved that much._

 _But we had no where to go. We had no idea where Mom's husband was, hence we were pretty much on our own. Granny tried to help us financially but she soon had her own demons knocking her door. Winry's parents were doctors who had gone to serve east where the rebellion had begun. Both of them died in the line of duty._

 _I decided that if we had to survive, we had to walk on our own two feet._

 _But it seemed like fate was intent on playing with us. Three months after Mom left us, a group of armed rebellions attacked Resembool. Our house was on the outliers of the town. Easily targetable._

 _We were kids. We couldn't put up a fight._

 _I covered up for Al, helped him climb out of the first-floor bedroom window and shimmy down the pipe. I was about to follow him when the house exploded._

 _I was trapped._

 _Agony a million times greater than the darkest, fiercest flames of purgatory shot up my right arm and left leg._

 _When I regained consciousness two weeks later, both of those limbs had been amputated. Al was scared, slightly bruised but to my great relief, he was okay._

 _I could see my brother blame himself, but I put a stop to it._

" _I couldn't live if something had happened to you, Al!" I yelled in a weak voice._

 _Winry and Granny and other townspeople were safe—apparently the rebels were caught by the army before they could do anymore damage. I was the sole casualty._

 _A year passed by. I realised I couldn't accomplish anything by sitting put on a wheelchair and stare up at the sky._

 _I decided to try automail._

 _Granny and Winry were skeptical at first but my determination won them over. The surgery was...painful. The recovery...even more._

 _But after two years, I could stand up on my own two feet. Walk, run, jump._

 _I could be independent._

 _One day as I was buying groceries, I overheard a conversation. A lady in a white trench-coat and a scary face was bemoaning how the kids of today were such slobs both physically and mentally. I dug for more information._

 _That woman was Izumi Curtis. She formerly worked with a circus before retiring. Now she was a freelance lecturer at the Central University._

 _I had to convince her to teach us!_

 _Al agreed to my plan and we shadowed her doorstep all day for ten days. Finally impressed by our tenacity, she took us in._

 _She was brutal, insanely strict but she knew her stuff. We lived with her and her husband, a large yet gentle man named Sig, in her tiny house in Dublith. Four years passed by after which she deemed us knowledgeable enough to take on the world._

 _I was fourteen. Al was thirteen._

 _Two brothers who had only each other for support._

 _We lacked money. And we had no where to live. Our teacher recommended us the circus she once worked for._

 _The Great Central Circus._

 _My sculpting ability, Al's painting ability and our physical prowess would easily earn us a place in it._

 _That's where the next chapter of my life begins._

 _My name is Edward Elric and this is my story._

 _*/*/_

The horse-drawn carriage was bursting at its seams, and it was a wonder that the carriage still held its structure together. Even amidst such discomfort, a blond boy slept away. His hair was long and tied into a braid, the bangs sweeping across his forehead gently as the wind blew in through the open window. He was clad in a leather jacket and pants with a blood red cloak thrown over. Next to him was another blond kid with a shorter hair who sat wide awake, his bright amber eyes drinking in the countryside that passed by. He was clad in a white shirt and brown trousers with a brown vest which had been unbuttoned because of the heat.

"You are just sleeping, Brother. You should have let me sit near the window," the short-haired boy muttered. The other kid muttered something unintelligible in his sleep.

Sometime later, a sea of multicoloured tents appeared on the rolling hills. The kid nudged his sleeping brother awake.

"Look brother! We are here!" he exclaimed, pointing out.

The brother rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned before casting a bleary look at the scenery.

"Wow, that was fast," he remarked.

The carriage-driver opened the door, gesticulating at them to empty the carriage quickly.

"Hey you! Pipsqueak! Move it!" he barked at the long-haired blond. His brother clapped a palm to his forehead with a sigh. He knew what would happen.

And he wasn't disappointed.

"WHOM ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE HAS TO JUMP TO CLIMB UP ON THE BACK OF A BABY ANT?!" the long-haired blond yelled, attracting everyone's attention in the vicinity.

"Brother!" he said in an exasperated voice, quickly paying the flabbergasted driver and pushing his brother out of danger zone.

"Sheesh Ed! There's a place and time to blow up," he reprimanded.

The long-haired blond stared back defiantly.

"He asked for it, Al," he huffed.

Al shook his head, knowing that his brother's logic will elude him for eternity. He took out a piece of paper from his pocket, the scrap crumpled up due to travel.

"Mr. Bradley is the owner of the Great Central Circus and he knew Teacher pretty well. She said he could get us some job," Al said, reading from it.

"Okay, let's get it done before dinner," Ed added as the duo picked up their suitcases and entered the town of tents.

The place was fascinating, to say the least. There were animals, people in the most varied and weird costumes, colourful tents, scores of amazing equipment—Ed wished he had eight eyes as his head swivelled around, trying not to miss out anything.

"Gosh Al! This place is seriously amazing!" Ed exclaimed, his amber eyes shining with wonder.

"I agree, Brother. I wouldn't mind working here...I guess it would be really exciting!" Al replied, echoing his brother's sentiment.

Engaged in sightseeing, Ed didn't see someone coming up and before Al could move him away, the two bumped and landed on the grass.

"Hey! Can't you see where you are going?" Ed snapped, scrambling up on his feet. The one with whom he collided looked to be a man in his late twenties. He had jet-black hair with slanted obsidian eyes and, well, he looked sort of good. He was clad in a three piece suit complete with a tie and a kerchief and a very smug smile now played on his lips.

"Sorry kid, didn't see you coming," he shrugged as he got up gracefully like a cat.

Al just realised that today was going to be on his personal list of "DAYS THAT WENT TO HELL".

"WHO ARE CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE COULD BE TRAMPLED BY AN AMOEBA?!"

Ed yelled and was about to strangle the black-haired man until Al held him back, his arms tightly around his midriff. The man cocked his head to a side in a bemused manner before he resumed his walk to his destination.

"I am _not_ short! And don't you dare start the milk theory!" Ed huffed as he lifted his suitcase and began marching forward. Al shook his head before following his brother.

After asking for directions a couple of times, they finally appeared in front of what looked like the biggest tent in the area. A mousy-looking woman with round spectacles ushered them inside.

Mr. Bradley was a well-built man with a rugged square face. He was clad in a black gym-vest that showed away his rippling muscles and a pair of cargoes. His black hair was neatly combed and a black eyepatch covered his left eye. A benign smile rested on his lips as he motioned the duo to seat themselves on the sofa.

"You are the Elric Brothers, aren't you?" he asked, not unkindly.

Al nodded. "Yes sir. I am Alphonse Elric and this is my older brother Edward Elric. Our teacher Izumi Curtis sent us here."

Bradley nodded. "Yeah, I know. She sent me a letter, informing me of your arrival. She told me you are skilled, yes?"

Al nodded vehemently, Ed joining in with a half-hearted dip of his head. He wanted to strangle that pompous git who walked into him so badly!

"All right. It is rare for Izumi to recommend someone so highly—I will put you to work under one of the most trusted performers here, I will listen to what he says then assign you to your permanent jobs. Consider it to be your probationary period. You have one month's time to show me what you can do." With that, Bradley motioned the mousy-looking woman towards him.

"Call him from the practice tent—tell him his new protégés are here." He said. The woman nodded and left.

*/*/

"...and then he began yelling like someone who lost his marbles. Can you believe that?"

"Are you sure you are not being melodramatic, Roy?"

"Riza, am I _ever_ melodramatic?"

"Don't try that _voice_ on me...I am not Alice!"

Roy Mustang couldn't help but grin at the flushed face of his best friend Riza Hawkeye. They had been together since they were children, and there was nothing one didn't know about the other. He was tall and well-built in a feline way, lending an odd but beautiful grace to his posture. The corners of his obsidian eyes often crinkled up in amusement but Riza knew that laughter never reached his eyes. Not since the day they joined the Circus.

Riza Hawkeye was shorter and strongly built, her russet eyes holding a determined look with her light blonde hair held up in a tight bun. A light fringe fell across her forehead, held by a dark blue clip—a gift from Roy on her fifteenth birthday. A year before all hell broke loose in their lives. Roy could be three years older than her but she couldn't help but feel he was worse than a three-year-old child at times.

"You jealous of Alice?" asked Roy, wiggling his eyebrows. Riza huffed, walking away to the other corner of the practice tent where the throwing knives were kept.

"Tell me Roy, do you love her?" she asked seriously.

"Love? Are you for real?" he laughed, looking completely amused. "She wasn't even a good one in bed—all she knows of seduction is to bat those broomstick eyelashes."

Riza cringed at the rather graphic description but steeled herself to say the next words nevertheless.

"Why Roy? Why are you doing this? It was not your fault...why are you blaming yourself? How long will you keep paying the price of something that was not your fault to begin with?" she said softly, looking straight into those eyes.

She felt her heartbeat spike up, her breath hitch.

Oh gods, she _was_ falling for him, wasn't she?

Roy held her gaze, his lips slightly parted in surprise. She could see indecision clouding his eyes, the sweat on his brow, the quivering of his lips...

His lips never seemed so... _attention-worthy_...

They could feel each other's breaths on their faces, hear each other's heartbeats. Roy could see the frankness, the _love_ in those russet eyes he loved so much but couldn't acknowledge.

Someone as _tainted_ as himself wasn't allowed to sully someone as pure as her.

He stepped back, breaking the spell.

"Er...practice...gotta practice..." he muttered as he walked away, leaving a sad but smiling woman in his wake.

He tried to erase the image of those eyes from his mind, those innocent eyes filled with love and hope. He couldn't tarnish them with his own darkness—he couldn't protect _him_ but he would protect _her_. This was one promise he would never break.

As he walked to the other corner, he almost ran into a mousy-looking woman.

"Hey Sheska! What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised. She was with the accounts department apart from being Bradley's personal assistant—and they rarely visited the tent that was dubbed the most dangerous all tents on the ground. Including the ones housing the lion.

"The two newcomers are here, Mr. Mustang. Mr. Bradley wants to introduce them to you," she said quickly.

Roy had a strange sense of foreboding. It couldn't be...

"Please, this way sir," she said, making her way carefully out of the tent, followed by a soundless Roy.

*/*/

Ed was twiddling his thumbs as he sat on the couch. Al and Bradley were having a polite conversation while they waited for some Roy Mustang. Someone who was going to be overseeing them.

 _Wonder if he's a pansy asshole,_ he thought.

Sometime later when Ed was about to give up on patience, the mousy-looking looking woman returned. With a surprisingly familiar man. In a three-piece suit. With a tie and a kerchief. And a smug smile. Which increased into a much wider, more evil looking smirk as he caught the sight of the duo.

"This is Roy Mustang, our Fireman. The one who gets things _lit_ , not put out. His stage-name is Flame. Roy, these are the Elric brothers—Edward and Alphonse," said Bradley in a manner of introduction

Al gave a cautious look to his brother. Ed was seething but was keeping his temper in check. He figured it was best he got Ed out of Bradley's tent as quickly as possible.

"Hello Mr. Mustang, I am Alphonse Elric..." he began, offering his hand.

Mustang shook it with his own. "The _older_ brother, I presume?" he smirked.

Al sighed. It was the last straw.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT YOU NEED A MICROSCOPE TO SEE HIM?!"

Ed yelled, making Mustang's smirk widen more while Al sighed again.

Life sure was _not_ a bed of roses.

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 **A/N:** Loved it? Hated it? Review review!

Since my other FMAB fic **TO BE KING** is on full throttle, I guess I would be updating this one once in two weeks. So hopefully, chapter 2 will be **updated sometime around 23 June.**

Till next time, folks!

*/*/Nazrath/*/*


	2. FLAME MAN AND METAL BOY

**CIRCUS—A FMAB AU FANFIC**

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 **A/N:** There's this thing with new stories...the author just can't help but bombard her poor readers with new chappies...hehe

I know I said the next chappie would be posted sometime around next week but my muse had other ideas...hence, this came out sooner than I planned. *smiles*

Chapter 3 will be out next week and perhaps after that I would be following a fortnightly schedule. **TO BE KING** followers, the chapter 13 of the fic will be out as usual on Tuesday. Happy reading, folks!

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 **CHAPTER 02: FLAME MAN AND METAL BOY**

Ed was pissed.

Royally, completely, irrevocably _pissed_.

Al walked in front of him as human barrier, as if trying prevent him from jumping and wringing the life out of that smirking bastard. He dug deeper into his pockets, the scowl becoming more of a permanent fixture on his face. Al's smile was genuine as he took in the surroundings—Ed couldn't help but shake his head. How did his baby brother get the calm genes while he had none?

 _Apparently someone has to call the spade a bloody spade on its face_.

They came to a halt in front of a generic looking tent—a canvas cylindrical thing with a canopy on top. Ed couldn't discern its colour—it seemed to be a faded combo of every colour imaginable.

"This will be your living quarters for the month—until you get assigned to your permanent jobs," Mustang said, gesturing to the tent. "The bathing tents are at the base of the hillock over there and the food tent is just next to it. A loud bell rings for wake-up call, lunch call and dinner call. Breakfast is up to you—cook it on your own or stay hungry. Your choice."

Al listened to Mustang diligently, saving all the information in his memory.

"And listen you two—the practice tent and animals' tent are out of bounds unless you are accompanied by a senior member of the circus. Those places are dangerous and frankly, I don't want your blood on my hands," Mustang added. "By the way, what's with the gloves, kid? Aren't you sweltering in this heat?"

Al gave a surreptitious glance at Ed while the latter noticeably stiffened. The flamboyant red coat and the white gloves had only one purpose—hiding the automail. It wasn't as if Ed was ashamed of it—it just invited unwanted questions which he would rather avoid if possible. Along with the pity that came with it.

"Says the man bundled with all the clothes from a store," Ed said flatly.

Mustang shrugged—a circus was hardly some place to remark on someone's unusual sense of attire.

"Lunch call in ten minutes...I would be heading towards the food tent if I were you," he said before walking out of the earshot.

The interior of the tent was...spartan. Clean but nothing was certainly new here. Two bunk beds were diametrically opposite the entry flap, with a worktable on the right and a small cupboard on the left. Two rickety chairs flanked the table, looking as if they were dug out of some archaeological site.

"Certainly not five star accommodation, huh Al?" Ed remarked, placing his suitcase next to the bunkbed and sitting on the hard, thin mattress.

"We will live," Al said, looking around at what was going to be their new home. "At least we won't be imposing on anyone...from here on, we would be earning our way in the world."

"True that, brother mine," Ed agreed. "That black-haired git said it's almost lunch time—I dunno about you but I'm hungry."

"Brother, it's Mr. Mustang! He's going to be our overseer for the month—don't go affronting him now," Al exclaimed exasperatedly.

Ed held up his hands in a placating gesture. "All right, all right. I will stay clear of him...you just do the talking part, okay? Something about him rubs me the wrong way."

Al nodded, secretly glad his brother was seeing reason for a change. They couldn't afford to blow up this opportunity. So git or not, they had to grin and bear it.

They jogged up to the bathing tents in the direction which Mustang had pointed out. Since it was the middle of the afternoon, it was sparsely populated—just a couple of people washing away the dirt and grime of the journey like them.

A rotund man with reddish hair clad in a white vest and black workpants was squatting on the grass, chatting with a blond, lanky man puffing away on a cigarette. The rotund man caught sight of the duo coming out of the washing area and waved them over.

"Hey kids! You the ones assigned to Roy?" he called.

Al nodded, walking up to them. Ed grumbled, but followed all the same.

"Yeah...I am Alphonse Elric, and this is my _older_ brother Edward," he said in a manner of introduction.

"I am Heymans Breda from the inventory and this smoker is Jean Havoc. He assists Roy with his performance," the red-haired man said, getting up on his feet and shaking hands with Al. Havoc followed suit.

"What does Mr. Mustang do?" Al asked politely. He could feel a pique in Ed's interest—even though he tried to whistle nonchalantly. He couldn't help but giggle mentally—Ed was seriously _too_ predictable at times.

"You don't know?" Havoc exclaimed. "Then I wouldn't spoil your surprise. We are putting up a show in the evening...see for yourself."

Just then the bell rang, preventing further conversation. Ed licked his lips as smell of roasted chicken and stew wafted out of the giant troughs the cooks carried into the food tent. Havoc rubbed his hands in delight.

"It's stew today!" he grinned delightedly, eliciting identical ones from the Elrics. Ed loved stew—according to him, it was the world's best invention.

" _It has milk in it yet you do not feel the bovine nastiness!"_ he had exclaimed. And stew often reminded him of home.

The food tent was a noisy, boisterous place. People sat around in rickety tables, chatting amicably as they gobbled down their food. Havoc and Breda invited the duo to join them at their table. They were soon joined by one another man, a bespectacled timid looking one with a roundish gentle face.

"Hey there Kain, how are the light works going on? You got the work done, right?" Breda asked through a mouthful of stew.

The man addressed as Kain nodded as he sat on the empty seat next to Ed. "The mild dew we had last night shorted the fuse-board. Nothing much," he nodded, spearing a broccoli on his fork and popping it into his mouth.

"This is Edward and Alphonse Elric, boss is going to oversee them for the month," Havoc said as introduction.

Kain offered Ed a hand, which the latter shook with slight disgruntlement. He hated being disturbed during meal times.

"I am Kain Fuery. I work with the light and sound department," he said cheerfully. Ed gave a non-committal grunt.

Kain looked slightly puzzled. Thankfully, Al came to his rescue.

"Nice to meet you, Mr, Fuery. I hope you would help us settle down," he said politely.

Kain smiled back. "Of course, Alphonse."

"Please, call me Al. Everyone does."

The lunch was a quick affair—as after a morning worth of work, everyone was too hungry to play with food. Ed realised that the smirking bastard was no where in sight. He gave a discreet look around...yep, the bastard was missing all right.

"The Mustang guy, he doesn't eat here?" Ed asked as the five of them walked to the patch of grass they were sitting on earlier.

"Naah, the elite performer people have their own separate food tent along with cooler accommodation—like the aristocracy of the circus folk," Havoc explained as he took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

Ed shrugged, glaring at his brother's silent giggle.

"So Ed, what can you do?" Fuery asked curiously.

Ed looked at Al, glaring at him one last time before answering.

"Wood sculptures, stone too if I have the right equipment," Ed answered. Havoc and Breda whistled appreciatively.

"And you, Al?" Fuery pressed on.

"Painting," he replied simply.

"I see why Bradley got you on the bandwagon—your skills could seriously help us with the props, especially when Heinkel's lion goes on a rampage," Havoc said between puffs, looking at the Elrics with a new sort of respect.

"I just hope it's enough...we really have no where else to go," Al said softly, making the other three exchange confused glances. Ed frowned.

"Hey Al, it's not _that_ bad," Ed said, warning clearly written in his eyes.

Al looked up, the temporary haziness all but absent in his eyes. "I am sorry, just remembered stuff," he said apologetically.

Breda waved it away. "Don't you worry, kiddo. Everyone here has had his share of stuff with the world. You are not alone."

Al gave him a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Breda."

The four of continued to chat on non-consequential things, leading Ed to tune them out and observe the surroundings.

The work schedule posy lunch seemed to be slightly more relaxed in nature as people were mostly sitting around and exchanging gossip. Just as the full belly and quiet conversations around him were lulling him into a blissful state of semi-consciousness, a shrill scream broke through the peace. Everyone stared at the source of the voice, somewhere in the swath of tents beyond the food one.

Ed scrambled up to his feet, completely bewildered. Al mirrored his expression while the others, to his surprise, wore expressions of resignation and distaste.

"That man never learns," Breda grumbled.

"And we will get another earful from Bradley," Havoc said.

"Why doesn't the brass fire him?" Fuery muttered angrily.

"Can't be done, Kain. He's only trapeze artist we have—the true trapeze artist. Our show will be dead without his act," Havoc answered, biting a bit harder on his cigarette.

Ed didn't have to wait anymore—the source of the scream and the reason soon presented themselves in front of him.

A man with long black hair tied into a ponytail and clad in a white business suit marred slightly with mud was dragging a woman with her hair and flung her in front of him. The woman had dark-brown hair with pink highlights and the typical dark skin of the people from the eastern province. She was currently on her knees begging as tears poured down her eyes.

"Please Mr. Kimblee, I beg you, do not do this!" she wept. A large bruise was slowly gaining colour on her forehead.

"You filthy whore! How dare you suggest that I, Zolf Kimblee, will keep you, a lowly Easterner, as a part of my escort?" the black-haired man spat.

"But sir...you promised..." she wailed in terror and anguish.

"I made no promise of such sort!" he yelled back and was about to slap her hard when he found his hand held immobile. By a short, really irritated blond.

Ed had enough.

"Why don't you stop that act of yours?" he said conversationally, though he seethed with anger.

"What act, brat?" he retorted. "I made no such promise of getting her work in my act!"

"You tried to molest me, sir!" the woman yelled.

Kimblee turned his razor-sharp eyes onto her, wrenching his hand from Ed's grip and advancing towards her.

"What did you say?" he asked menacingly. The place fell deathly quiet.

The woman gave a terrified squeak.

This day, Ed realised, was officially one of the worst days of his life.

"Hey you, white-suited bastard! You are not fooling anyone with the "I am righteous" act—it doesn't take a genius to realise why you brought this lady here. So drop the act, leave the girl and get the hell out of here. You are pissing everyone and ruining my afternoon nap!"

Kimblee turned to him, a maniacal gleam on his face.

"So you little pipsqueak, you think you are the boss here? Do you know who am I?"

Ed's eyes narrowed—Al fervently hoped that Ed didn't notice the taboo word.

"I don't care if you are the freaking president of this country, I'm still kicking your butt outta here!"

"Oh really, kid? Try me," Kimblee cackled as he jumped forward to throttle him.

Ed side-stepped his onslaught and banged a fist on his head. His right, automail fist.

Kimblee kissed the dirt, knocked out cold.

The audience were shocked to silence for a second before cheering broke out.

"How did he do that?" Havoc wondered as they rushed towards him.

"Brother! Are you okay?" Al asked urgently.

Ed shook his head. "I'm fine. Ask the woman...she's scared and pretty badly injured."

Al gently helped her on her feet, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"Are you hurt, lady?" he asked gently.

"Not really, just a couple of bruises. An ice-pack will be fine," she whispered. Al helped her to the nearest chair and seated her on it. Breda soon appeared with an ice pack and a first aid kit.

"Thank you for helping me. I am Rose," she said in a soft voice, wincing slightly as Al put the pack on her forehead.

"I am Al, and don't talk for a bit. You look weak," Al said as he rummaged about in the box for some cotton wool.

Ed lounged at the fringes of the crowd as he took in the scene. To be honest, it felt good to be in a fight—a nice way to release all his pent up frustration. He was about to chalk up a mental schedule when felt something move behind him.

He turned. Kimblee, with blood flowing freely from his head, had a wild cackle on his lips as he swung a heavy looking wooden bat on a course sure to hit his head.

Ed's mind was fast, but his body was slow to respond.

 _It's gonna hit me!_ He realised with a shock.

As his frozen body geared up for the upcoming impact, he saw a torrent of fire rush towards him from his peripheral vision.

 _Move, legs!_

He jumped back, enough to see the fire burn the bat and singe away Kimblee's eyebrows.

The crowd realised that the action was continuing and quickly turned around.

"STOP IT, KIMBLEE!" came a roar from some ten feet away, from where the flames came.

*/*/

"I hate shrimp."

"Roy, eat it."

"I hate it."

"Don't make me shoot you."

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me."

The senior food tent was some distance away from the common mess, away from the noise that generally hung about it like it's own personal atmosphere. Roy poked the soggy crustacean, his face almost squeamish. Riza sighed, before taking the matter in her own hands and forcing the thing down his throat.

A black-haired, bespectacled green-eyed man who sat across the table chuckled at the sight.

"You know Riza, Roy. She doesn't take no for an answer," he grinned.

Roy glared at him, swallowing the mouthful with some difficulty. "Funny enough, Maes. Now stop it before I slip in broccoli in your stew."

That threat effectively shut him up.

"You wouldn't dare," Maes said weakly but he knew Roy Mustang. When cornered, that man was extremely dangerous.

"Eat quickly. We have work to do," Riza said, diligently chewing through her food.

Silence reigned on their table as they gobbled down their lunch.

It was when Roy thankfully dumped his empty plate in the cleaner's trolley when a young boy—probably one of the stagehands—came running into the tent. He looked positively terrified.

"Mr. Kimblee...a woman...a boy...fighting!" he gasped.

A boy? Kimblee? Roy frowned.

"A fight, you say?" Bradley said, standing up. "Physical altercation apart from acts are not allowed in the premises..."

Roy scratched his chin...if it was _him_...

"Mr. Bradley, I will go and see what's the matter if it is not much of a problem. Besides, the investors would be coming soon—it would be best if you would proceed with the meeting. I will see what the matter is and report you as early as possible," Roy said smoothly, knowing fully well that both Riza and Maes were gawping at him like a goldfish.

 _Bradley hates dissenters._

" _We have nowhere to go..."_

Roy knew _exactly_ what that meant.

Bradley shrugged. "All right, Mustang. Do as you deem fit."

Roy marched out of the tent, Riza and Maes close on his heals.

"What is it, Roy? You know Kimblee, he _hates_ you! Aren't you adding fuel to the fire?" Maes asked quickly as he matched his speed to Roy's hurried pace.

"If the kid is who I think it is...I don't want Bradley messing with him _now_...I have plans..." Roy muttered. "Riza, my kit...where is it?"

"In your tent, Roy. It is on our way," Riza replied quickly, slightly curious. She had never seen Roy so thoughtful before.

When they approached the senior living quarters, Roy rushed into his tent and snatched a small bag. He zipped it open and checked the contents.

Nothing was missing.

He rushed out and the trio resumed their walk, rather jog as the sounds were almost audible at this point.

He saw Kimblee with blood dripping from his forehead. With a giant, wooden bat. Creeping behind a certain blond boy clad in a red coat.

The said blond boy turned around. Kimblee swung the bat.

Roy quickly took out a bottle of kerosene and a lighter—took a swig from it, clicked the lighter and blew the oil, resulting into a torrent of fire.

"STOP IT!" He roared.

Ed and Kimblee stared at him, the former's mouth hanging open. A corner of his mind stored up that particular image of the blond, a part of his arsenal to irritate him later.

"Are you trying to _kill_ him, you idiot?!" he yelled.

He saw Ed skirt around and place a healthy distance between himself and the deranged trapeze artist.

"Oh hello, Bradley's pet flamethrower. Come to enjoy the show?" Kimblee sneered.

Roy realised that the man had finally lost his marbles.

"Calm down, Kimblee. You know Bradley's policy of fighting—you will get kicked out," he said, forcing a calm into his voice even though he felt anything but. He saw an injured woman being treated by Al in his peripheral vision, realising the actual story. Riza quickly walked to her—Roy sighed in relief. She could help, after all she was a trained paramedic before she joined the circus.

An onslaught of unwanted memories threatened to overwhelm him—he shook his head to focus. He found Maes stand up next to him, his throwing knives ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.

"Let us talk it out, Kimblee," Roy said again.

Kimblee just cackled, losing what little coherence he had left. He whipped around to find Ed standing next to the tree, and grinned maniacally.

"You lost me my day, kid!" he roared, sprinting towards him with a hand raised in a fist.

Before Roy could do something, he saw Kimblee being held immobilised by the blond's right hand. The gloved fingers curled around his wrist sharply, making the man scrabble his arms with his free hand.

"Don't piss me off, you white-suited bastard!" Ed said menacingly. With that, he threw the man on the ground, the latter dragging the red cloak off with him.

Roy saw the sunlight being reflected off something metallic...

He gasped.

Ed's entire right arm gleamed, a frown appearing on his face as he snagged the cloak over his head and glared at the crowd's collective gaping expression.

"I have got automail. Problem?" he fumed and stalked off. Al murmured something apologetic before taking off after his brother.

Roy felt slightly weak in his knees.

That kid... _what on earth happened to him_?

* * *

 **A/N:** It's fun writing a younger Ed...you get to make him act as hotheaded as you want!

 **HavokBrewer:** I love my first reviewer...I believe they deserve the affection as they are courageous enough to leave an awesome review for a newly released story...thanks!

 **BlueIsTheColourOfOurPlanet:** I love your fic "Numb"...it's super amazing! And thanks for reviewing and liking my story. :)

 **Rufescent:** There's a dearth of Parental!RoyXEd fics here and I am a sucker for those and thus ended up writing one...though the parental stuff will begin with full force a bit later...we all know how Mustang loves making Ed run around in circles!

 **Guest:** Mostly, though there's another thing he would prove to be good at...all in due time!

A big giant, Milky-Way-sized hug to all those who have read, favorited, followed and reviewed this story...I heart you guys!

*/*/Nazrath/*/*


	3. FIRST CLASS

**CIRCUS—A FMAB AU FANFIC**

* * *

 **A/N:** _I know I promised a chapter around Tuesday, but things cropped up and crap really hit the fan in RL. This chapter might be a bit shoddy and hurried but I promise the next chapter will make up for it._

 _I am going to keep Circus's update schedule as monthly for now until further notice as college is creeping up and I want to finish my other **FMAB** fic before classes begin._

 _Next chapter onwards, I promise longer and well-written pieces. For this once, I truly apologise. RL break-ups can be so messy..._

* * *

 **CHAPTER 03: FIRST CLASS**

 _My automail...it isn't as if I am ashamed of it. I did not detest it or anything._

 _Automail helped me walk, it gave me my life back. If this was the price I had to pay to see my brother smile again, I would pay it a hundred times over._

 _But the world is crap...the kids are the shittiest of the lot. Teacher enrolled us into a nearby school, saying we should spend some time hanging around kids our age. I could see Al enjoyed it—I mean, for how long can I be his sole companion? But they avoided me._

 _At first, I thought it was mere shyness. The south hadn't seen the war, hadn't seen the eastern rebellion tear our country apart. They hadn't seen their house burn down, their friend's parents leave never to return. For them, it was just an article on the newspaper. A topic of five-minute Current Affairs revision._

 _It wasn't their reality._

 _In the east, automail wasn't common. But it wasn't rare either. Hell, even Den, the Rockbell's dog, had an automail leg._

 _But here, it was as common as the moon in summer noon. I was first an object of curiosity._

 _Then I became a freak._

 _I tried to remain unassuming, reigned in my temper. I knew Al liked it here...he was even friends with a couple of boys. But one day, the shit finally hit the fan._

 _I sported a light bruise on my chin. The others, one had a bloody nose, another a cracked skull. Rest sported injuries on those lines._

 _Teacher removed me from the school before I could be officially kicked out. She didn't scold me. Rather, she gave me a hug and cried._

 _Al left the next day. I protested, shouted, argued, pleaded—I was kicked out, he wasn't. Guess the stubborn quality ran in our family._

 _We were home-schooled after that. No one needed to say it out loud but I knew—we no longer fitted in the general sense of society._

*/*/

"Automail, Bradley? And you didn't tell? You do know how Roy feels about that thing, and you made him that kid's _overseer_?" Maes raged. The benign bespectacled man was rarely angry, rather Roy used to point out how idiotic one had to be to be able to smile throughout the day. But today, unbridled anger shone through his green eyes.

Riza stood quietly next to him. She knew it was not the time to remind him that Bradley was supposed to be their employer.

The said man, however, looked nonplussed as he sipped his tea.

"Maes, Maes...I know about Roy and I know about Edward. That kid lost two limbs—" he began before he was again interrupted. This time, it was Riza.

" _Two_? That kid has _two_ automail limbs?" she gasped.

"Right arm and left leg," Bradley answered. "Listen, you two. That kid is good, Izumi herself vouched for him. And tell Roy to grow up. I cannot spare him getting sappy over something like this."

Maes slumped his shoulders in defeat as he followed Riza out of Bradley's tent.

"I think you should give Roy some credit," Riza smiled as the duo walked back to Roy's tent. "He's not that much of a sap."

Maes sighed. "I know Riza...but this is too personal. It reminds him of memories he would rather forget."

Riza looked up at the pale blue sky. "I know Maes. Believe me, I know."

*/*/

Roy paced in his personal sleeping tent, trying to eliminate the images that were trying to play a film in his mind's eye.

 _A house...a house on fire...smoke...ashes...screams...a girl...yells...funeral..._

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" he screamed.

"Shouting will not put up tonight's show, Roy," Maes said from the entry-flap.

"Get out," Roy said rudely.

"Yeah, I know the weather's nice," Maes said, sitting down on his bed and staring up at him.

"Don't do this to yourself, Roy. Move on. Reliving those memories will do no one good. Besides, aren't you being hard on the kid? He's new here, and from his behaviour I dare say hostility is something he's used to. You are his overseer..."

"I don't _want_ to be his overseer, Maes!" Roy yelled, slamming his fist on the dressing table and making it's contents rattle. Maes maintained his unflinching look on Roy.

"I _can't...I can't_ , Maes...there are _too many memories_..." Roy said, slumping next to his dresser, his head buried in his hands.

Maes got down from the bed and slung an arm around his shoulders. "I know it's tough, Roy. But sometimes, life throws up crap coz there's got to be treasure buried underneath it."

Roy smiled weakly. "Stop it, Maes. You are sounding like my grandmother."

Maes stood up as he saw that old glimmer return in his friend's obsidian eyes.

"All right Roy-boy. It's time to get down to business. Get your butt off the floor, we have work to do."

*/*/

"Ed?" Al began tentatively.

Ed was sitting on the lower bunk, hands gripping his knees. He could see his frame shaking.

"Hey...um Brother?" Al tried again. He walked up and sat down next to him, giving a gentle squeeze to his flesh shoulder.

"I did it again, Al," he said softly. "Proved again I am a freak, an aberration to nature."

Al sighed. "Brother, you know it's not like that. You are _not_ a freak. Those kids who said that...they are. Why do you remember them and not me? Me saying that this is not done? You saved my life all those years ago, Brother! You are not a freak...you are a hero!"

Ed shook his head. "Half of me is dead metal..."

Al punched his shoulder forcefully. "This is unlike you...and besides, I don't think anyone here considers you a freak. At least Rose doesn't. She said that you must have been so brave to have endured the operation—everyone knows that automail surgery is worse than third-degree torture."

Ed was silent, but Al knew he was listening though there was no outward demonstration of the fact.

He saw the tent-flap pushed aside slightly and Breda's head poked in.

"Hey Ed, Al...Mustang wants you in his cabin. We are putting up a show in the evening—he would be handing out duties. Come on, quick!"

Al nodded. "We will be there, Mr. Breda."

Breda gave them both a look, nodded at Al and moved out.

"Come on, Brother. Time for work."

*/*/

Roy's tent was in a flurry of activity when the duo stepped in. Ed tried to clamp down his curiosity as he looked around. The various props looked quite stellar but his mind slowly began to evaluate how they could be improved.

 _A shaving here, a couple nicks there, that nail could be better driven in, the curve of the face could be made better..._

"Edward, Alphonse, don't stand gawking. Come on in, we have work to do," Havoc said good-naturedly, waving them in. Al raised a hand in greeting while Ed dug his hands deeper into the pockets.

"Hey pipsqueak, Bradley says you are one hell of a sculptor...care to give the props a lookover?" Mustang said as he cleaned his paraphernalia.

"I am _not_ a pipsqueak," Ed muttered.

Mustang raised his eyebrows but didn't pursue the matter further.

Ed plodded up to the various props—mannequins, toy houses and the like, running a critical eye over them. He saw Mustang observing him from the corner of his eye.

"Quit staring like that," Ed snapped.

To his surprise, Mustang grinned. "I am not into _that_ , you know," he smirked.

Ed looked a bit surprised before the innuendo caught up with him.

"You...you _bastard_!" he yelled, jumping up to throttle him only to be held back by his brother.

"Now now Brother," Al admonished. "We do have a lot of work to do."

Ed harrumphed angrily before snatching a chisel and a hammer and settling down for work.

"Mr. Mustang...anything I can do?" Al asked as he saw his brother slowly get taken over by the love of what he was doing. Unless someone physically pushed him, Ed wouldn't react.

Mustang scratched his chin before answering. "Why don't you go and help Riza? She was supposed to be giving final touches to the posters now."

"All right, sir." Al replied before dashing off.

*/*/

Roy looked at the teen who seemed enraptured by the gargoyle, his gloved hands running almost reverently over its face. Clad in that obscene red coat of his, he almost looked like a regular teen.

Well, almost.

Roy refilled his container with kerosene and double-checked his other instruments. Unlike what others believed, he had a healthy respect for fire. For he had seen it take away lives right in front of him.

"This one's off balance, the other two need finishing. Have clay or plaster of paris or something on those lines?" Ed called, his eyes still fixed on the inanimate object.

Roy saw one of the attendants hand him a small sack of the white powdery substance.

He tried to eliminate what his mind wanted to see...a teen with shaggy black hair and blue eyes... _automail..._

Edward was _nothing_ like _him_. Janus wasn't short, for starters.

A smirk crept up his face, the tension leaving his shoulders. Edward wasn't Janus, nor was he Aria. He was someone completely different.

Roy went back to cleaning his instruments and setting them in his bag. As callous as it might sound, Janus and Aria were a part of the past which could not be brought back. And he couldn't afford to waste his future thinking about it.

"Who's Aria?" asked someone standing behind him.

Roy swivelled his neck, almost cricking it.

"What are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?" he snorted. "Or maybe you are so _small_ , I tend to miss you."

"For the last time, jerk, I am _not_ short. Move your geriatric butt so that I can get the gloves," Edward snorted back.

Roy looked down on what he was sitting. A pink rubber finger wiggled back.

"Who's Aria?" Edward asked, curiosity evident from his voice.

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know," Roy evaded, trying to keep his voice light.

"I have a younger brother who has done a PhD in the art of evasion so stop acting like a smartass. Spill," he pressed on.

Roy sighed—this kid never knew to give up.

"Before coming here, I used to live in an orphanage. Me, Riza and Maes. Never knew my parents, just that mother was supposedly from Xing." Roy pointed his eyes. "Which _could_ explain my exotic features."

"Aria and Janus were twins who were best friends with us three. Five of us were inseparable; orphanages are no fun places but we managed to squeeze out some enjoyment from the otherwise dreary lives." Roy stared up at the faded ceiling of the practice tent, a small smile on his face.

"What made you come here?" Edward asked, all animosity forgotten as he sat down on an upturned box. Roy followed suit, occupying the one in front of him.

"Our orphanage was in the countryside, no human soul around for miles. That didn't bother us...we were happy with what we had. But that night..." Roy choked, unable to continue. He wasn't narrating the incident to Edward anymore. The visions were clear as crystals in front of his eyes, and if he tried, he could smell the smoke.

The arsonists who lit fire to the already dilapidated building. The shouts of the kids who were inside. His trembling hands as they gripped the shoulders, brain screaming but limbs immobile. The fact that slowly sunk in, that he was the only one outside.

 _I have to do something...Riza, Maes, Aria, Janus...they are all inside!_

He ran in. Flames burnt welts on his skin, smoke stung his eyes.

"ARIA! JANUS! RIZA! MAES!" the boy shouted. Roy saw his younger, scraggly self run around in the inferno as he searched for life. He saw the teenaged Maes barrelling into him—the duo pulling out an unconscious Riza from underneath a fallen beam.

A shine of automail...Janus waving weakly...

Janus' right automail arm cherry red due to heat...his very limb burning away his very life.

He saw himself scream...he saw Maes drag him out. He saw Aria, her long dark hair looking as if engulfed in molten metal...her angelic smile...

 _I love you, Roy...live..._ she mouthed...

"Hey...bastard! You with me?"

Roy blinked. He felt his shoulders shaken a bit roughly...it was Edward.

"Pretty bad shit, I must say," the blond said slowly. "Automail can do that...Winry warned me to stay away from fire. Metal and heat are a killer combo."

A small, rueful smile lifted the corners of his lips. "I guess you are not that much of a bastard after all, though you have your crap points. I guess I could give you a bit of a leeway there."

Roy sat silently, drinking in his words. "We should get back to work. The first show is within an hour. This should conclude your first class in here."

Edward stood up, dusting the behind of his cloak. "First class, eh? I wonder how's the second going to be." He smirked. "Hope not as teary-eyed as yours."

Roy stared. Then saw his shit-eating grin.

"But we cannot let someone as _young_ as you listen to the R-rated details now, can we?" Roy smirked back.

And waited. Three, two, one...

He wasn't disappointed.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE WOULD DROWN IN A BEETLE'S TEAR DROP?!" Edward yelled, making everyone in the vicinity jump.

* * *

 **A/N:** _A review if you can?_


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